Politics
Battling the blues

by Uditha Devapriya
Older than the Ashes and one of the oldest encounters of its kind, the Royal-Thomian kicked off three days ago amidst a gloomy spectacle of rain and thunder. This is one of the longest running school cricket matches in the world, clocking 142 years. It is also one of the most celebrated, certainly one of the most hyped. Its reputation rests in the fact that, as some of its more avowed spectators and fans would say, “It stops for nothing.” Having survived the rigours of two world wars, a 30 year civil war, and much political turmoil, the boast is well-earned: few school events have been held up anywhere as highly as this.
The match almost stopped last year, and almost never happened this year. That it came to be held on both occasions, even as the much older Eton Harrow encounter had to be put on hold due to the pandemic in England, underscores its importance for ardent old boys. For Lankans in general, it signifies a sense of continuity, the need to move on.
It’s a different story with the country’s politics. The Royal-Thomian is also called the Battle of the Blues, because of the colour blue in both schools’ flags. For the government and its opponents, and even its allies and supporters, by contrast, it’s been a case of battling the blues. With one crisis following another, only to be followed by yet another, the regime is pitted against too vast a set of forces – social, political, economic, and cultural – to think of surviving until the next bout of elections, let alone winning them. We are seeing the most acute clash of ideas to hit the streets in a long time. This is the most polarised we have ever been in living memory. The government is going through the biggest crisis of legitimacy any administration here has seen since the 1980s. And we are feeling the heat.
Three years after it came to power promising peace, prosperity, and stability, what has the Gotabaya Rajapaksa government got to show for itself? Largely owing to the pandemic, very little. To be fair, the crisis we are seeing through now has not entirely been its doing; this is why whatever judgement we can make of Mr Rajapaksa will have to wait until 2024. But for the people, what might have been offers little consolation for what is happening.
For three years the government has been trying to address problems afflicting the country and the economy, as well as the people. That it has failed to resolve them, and managed at the same time to tangle itself in numerous standoffs, does it no credit.
Its problems began with the constituencies that the governing party, the SLPP, pandered to and won three years ago. Postal votes are a good indicator of election results in Sri Lanka. They are a gauge of middle-class sentiment and they offer a hint as to election outcomes. In November 2019 Mr Rajapaksa won a majority of these votes: from Colombo to Hambantota, government bureaucrats and workers voted against a regime seen to have compromised on development and national security. Coupled with the peasantry, sections of the country’s minorities, and Colombo’s upper bourgeoisie, they formed part of the largest electoral bloc any administration had seen since 1977. As C. A. Chandraprema was to say of parliamentary elections six months later, they gave the SLPP “the mother of all landslides.”
The problem with landslides is that they are easy to win, but easier to lose. In 2015 a not-so overwhelming majority pushed Mahinda Rajapaksa out of power in the belief that replacing his family with another set of politicians would usher in development and progress. It was a rude awakening for many. Besieged by its contradictions, the yahapalana regime dissolved quickly into a battleground of factions and sects, dissolving further into squabbling within parties. By the end of the second year, a consensus had grown that if all it took to prop up the country was to keep away the Rajapaksas, their successors had failed spectacularly and a return of the Rajapaksas wouldn’t be so bad. Fears of policy turnarounds and of bartering no less than the island’s sovereignty, epitomised well by the controversial MCC agreement, stoked much discontent. A thudding defeat was in the air.
Paradoxically, the yahapalana government made it possible, not merely for a Rajapaksa restoration, but for the election of the former president’s brother. Parallels with Napoleon Bonaparte and his nephew notwithstanding, there was little that stood in Mr Gotabaya’s way. He had a world to win and a country to preside over. In November 2019, then, almost every community, including sections of ethnic minorities, gave him support. Even political commentators who had penned diatribes against him raised the possibility of better days ahead. Very few thought otherwise: among them, Dayan Jayatilleka stood out. This was as it should be: no one wanted to back a dead horse, and Ranil Wickremesinghe’s UNP, for all its history and heritage, seemed like a relic of some distant, dark past.
It all looked like a good dream then, but the dream has dissolved since. Besieged and belittled by one set of contradictions, the yahapalana regime spawned another. This time the contradictions cut into the heart of the new government’s constituency – an amorphous mixture of exploiting and exploited classes, of peasants and workers, of small producers and corporate bosses, of media magnates and petty scribes. It could not last for long. It certainly could not survive a crisis, still less one of systemic proportions. The first wave, and of course the government’s handling of it, has ensured a massive majority. Yet this is a majority it may not get again. Like Baltimora and Mungo Jerry, it will remain a one-hit wonder.
Not surprisingly, the Rajapaksa administration’s wide coalition has now proved to be its slipperiest slope and biggest stumbling point. Whatever policy it implements, attempts to implement, or reverses – and reversals have been part of the new normal in Sri Lanka – one group invariably pits itself against another: peasantry against traders, middle-class against hoarders, citizens against MPs, it’s all been one big mess. And now, amidst teachers’ strikes, trade union protests, and the dismal prospect of the country “going dark” for two days, the regime’s own coalition partners, about 11 in all, have begun to rebel.
Commentators are at most half-correct in the link they draw between the quagmire the government finds itself in today and its restoration of what Jayadeva Uyangoda, in a recent piece to The Hindu, calls “Sri Lanka’s personalised model of executive authoritarianism.” For all the dangers it represents, the 20th Amendment did no more than reverse the gains of the 19th Amendment; it did not do so to the extent of returning to the 18th. In other words, it did entrench executive authoritarianism, but not so much as to revive the untrammelled powers the president’s brother enjoyed between 2011 and 2015. The crisis, in that sense, goes much deeper than what liberal columns and critiques would suggest.
What most analyses miss out is that the government is being held hostage by the very economic paradigms it tried to impose on the population. I disagree with commentators who compare these paradigms with the austerity measures imposed by the United Front government in the 1970s – because those measures were informed by far more strenuous external circumstances, indeed less by the United Front’s socialist credentials than by the need to adjust to global food and fuel shortages – but I do agree that these involve what Dr Dayan Jayatilleka calls “a savage capitalism, including abolition of price controls on essential items.” Hardly anyone, except perhaps the most neoliberal of neoliberal commentators and free market advocates, would welcome imposing such measures on people.
These policies have distanced the government from every possible front, including the peasantry, the working class, and the middle-class. Dr Jayatilleka contends that a peasant uprising is in the air. This may well be. But what is more interesting is how a once dormant class, traditionally associated with the politics of populism, has been abandoned by a party led by a family whose political journey began from peasant strongholds. The working class was always the first to go during a crisis like this, but the middle-class is more interesting, in that a group hardly known for its radical credentials has now banded together with radical movements: not just trade unions, but also student activists.
It goes without saying that none of this bodes well for the regime. To be fair, nor does it bode well for whatever party, or alliance, that comes to power next time.
The Royal-Thomian went off well enough, except for the rains. A former prefect, a friend and a student of mine, argued with me about whether it would be held at all. “It’s better to say it will be rescheduled,” he said. “It will be held no matter the barrier, it hasn’t stopped for 141 years, and it has to be there this year too.” I thought otherwise, but seeing it take place despite the biggest pandemic since the Spanish Flu, I can’t help but notice the contrast it offers with the government’s own battles. There is a sense of continuity, but also a sense of change, throughout the country. There is also much frustration and much despair. Sooner or later, it’s bound to rise up, in far greater proportion than any school match.
The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com
Features
The Run-Up To The General Elections of July 1977

The General Elections were drawing near. There was concurrently a disturbing trend manifesting itself. A vociferous group were demanding that the elections be postponed for a further period, because the government was unable to complete its “progressive” social and economic programme, due to reasons beyond its control such as the insurgency of 1971. the oil price hike, the food crisis and so on. These arguments were patently absurd. The government had already extended its term of office by two years consequent to the introduction of the new constitution.
Now, a group of people were orchestrating a campaign for a further extension. At various public meetings where the Prime Minister attended, members of this group raised their voices and demanded a further extension of time. It appeared to take the form of a popular agitation exerting pressure on the government. No doubt, various persons holding similar views would have been speaking to the Prime Minister personally about the same issue. The whole thing seemed well orchestrated.
It was in this context that one day, she asked my opinion about the matter. I replied that I had always spoken absolutely frankly to her on any and all matters, and in the same spirit all I could say was that any attempt to extend the life of the government would be a total disaster, both for herself and the country. I went on to speak about her considerable achievements, as the world’s first woman Prime Minister; probably also as the first woman to be leader of the opposition in a parliamentary democracy, Head of the Non-Aligned Movement; honouredby the ILO, by their invitation to her, to deliver the keynote address at one of their inaugural sessions; honoured by the FAO by the award of the CERES medal in recognition of her personal and successful leadership of the food production drive consequent to the difficulties of 1974/75; honoured by the United Nations by their invitation to her to deliver the keynote address, at the first UN Conference on Women and Development and other achievements.
Then I told her that if elections were not held at the proper time, the position in the country could get unmanageable, and she would face the charge of destroying democracy in Sri Lanka. I had to be hard, because it was evident that many people had created for her, some kind of fantasy world, and she was getting confused. As was customary, she listened to what I had to say with grace and thanked me for being candid. Then she said, “l have asked WT also, and he said the same thing.”
That was the Prime Minister. She was always prepared to listen to different views, after which, she made up her mind. The dose of reality administered by WT Jayasinghe and myself, two public servants who had nothing to do with politics, would no doubt have helped her to take the final decision of holding elections.
Dealing with political personalities
Before I get to the election itself, I wish to refer to one or two other matters. One of the more important of these relates to some of the political personalities I had to work with, other than the Prime Minister. These included the Minister of Trade, Mr. TB Illangaratne; Mr. Hector Kobbekaduwa, Minister of Agriculture and Dr. Colvin R. de Silva, Minister of Plantation Industries, among others. My dealings with Mr. Maithripala Senanayake, I will refer to separately.
The fact was, that at some time or other one had to deal with practically all members of the Cabinet, since all of them had some business to transact with the Prime Minister’s Office at various times. Some of the ministers I have mentioned had more to do with us, both because of their seniority and the sensitive and important nature of their portfolios. My policy was equal attention and equal treatment for everyone. The internal politics between them did not concern me; neither did the state of relations between the parties in the coalition.
These were political issues that had to be resolved at other fora. I saw my job as attending fairly and diligently to any request or advice sought. There was a creative element in this, because, knowing the prime minister’s mind on many matters I was at times able to steer ministers and others away from courses of action which could have negative consequences. Therefore, many ministers dropped in to discuss some sensitive matter or sometimes to seek advice how best to handle a given situation with the prime minister.
They knew that they could repose trust in the confidentiality of such conversations. At the same time, when I thought that the prime minister had to be briefed on some developing situation, I always said openly that I would have to do so. In some circumstances, the relevant minister and I. only discussed a suitable approach. I did not view my duty to the prime minister as one entailing the carrying of tales or the retailing of gossip and rumours.
However, whenever relevant, gossip and rumours were checked out, because beneath them could lie some real problems. Occasionally, when something was beyond our competence to check, and if it looked important enough the prime minister was briefed. This approach begot a great deal of trust and confidence, so much so that on one occasion, Dr. Colvin R. de Silva told me that he as well as others in the LSSP were extremely sorry that I would not be available for appointment, when a vacancy occurred in the post of Secretary, in the Ministry of Communications, a ministry then held by Mr. Leslie Goonewardena, a senior LSSP minister. In his booming voice, he paid me the compliment of saying that they were not only looking for a secretary but also “a man.”
Besides dealing with ministers and government personalities, the secretary to the prime minister had also to deal with many opposition personalities. They received the same treatment as anybody else. If a request was valid, one worked to grant it. If in a particular instance, politics were proving to be an irrelevant and extraneous factor, one proceeded to remove it. Sometimes, this necessitated talking to the prime minister, and if she too were inclined to see only the politics, one analyzed the issue and pointed out that politics had no relevance to the issue, and that in her position she had to do the right thing. All this meant extra work and effort, but I considered it as part of a duty that had to be performed.
In this context, I was able at times to resolve genuine problems faced by opposition MP’s and personalities such as Mr. R. Premadasa, Mr. Gamini Dissanayake, Mr. Lalith Athulathmudali and others. My belief was that the prime minister’s office of a country should act fairly and justly on all matters referred to it subject to overall government policy. When the occasion so demanded, my endeavour was to point out that irrelevant or extraneous considerations could not be the foundation of good policy. They could be petty revengeful acts, harassment or abuse of power, but never policy, and it was my firm belief that those at the helm of affairs of a country should always distinguish between these.
All these meant an addition to an already nearly crippling workload. There were even times when one continued to work when one had fever, in order to meet impending deadlines. Indeed, there were a few occasions during the seven years I held this post, that when I eventually reached home in the night my temperature had risen to over 104°F.
(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of Dharmasiri Peiris, Secretary to the Prime Minister)
Features
The Paradox of Trump

By Uditha Devapriya
In a fortnight marked by dramatic shifts in US foreign policy, particularly on Ukraine and more predictably on Gaza, the changes being wrought by the Trump administration on its immigration policies should not come as a surprise. Yet immigration policies may become the lynchpin of Trump’s approach to the world and his allies. For it’s not just undocumented migrants, drug peddlers, and criminals who are facing the risk of detention or deportation: it’s also citizens of some of Washington’s key allies, including Germany and France. Most if not all of them have complained of harassment and aggressive interrogations, though US immigration officials have denied such claims.
The question is not how Trump can do the seemingly impossible – balancing between the withdrawal of US foreign aid from countries that desperately need assistance, harsh treatment of visa holders from US allied countries, and his rhetoric of being a peacemaker and a dealmaker on the world stage – but whether, in all seriousness, he wants to do it. The problem with many of Trump’s critics – on both the left and the centre – is that they rationalise his actions as part of a wider agenda, when that may not necessarily be the case. True, there is much more predictability – for better or worse – with his policies now, compared to his first term. Yet while there is much madness in his policies and the way he enacts them, there seems to be no proper, cogent method to them, yet.
The other problem is that Trump is launching a full-frontal assault on several fronts, and to isolate the one from the others would be ridiculous. It is hard to pick and choose because, at one strange level, they are all connected. They are implicitly driven by Trump’s brand of isolationism, in which might is right, big fish eat small fish, and, even in rhetoric, moral standards no longer constitute the weight of domestic or foreign policies. The danger with this approach, at least for the Trump administration, is that US institutions have been so used to the opposite of what they are trying to achieve that it will prove to be difficult if not impossible to see these policies through in the longer term.
The US is regularly promoted as a haven for migrants: it is what constitutes the “American Dream” and what has sustained the myth of the melting pot since at least the late 19th century. For better or worse, that myth has come to be accepted as concrete fact, and for the better part of the last century, it is what propelled US soft power on the world stage. Whatever its faults are, the United States has never been short on exchange programmes, fellowships, scholarships, and other initiatives, all sponsored by the State Department, which projected to the world a positive, benevolent image of that country. True, those among us who read and have read on US foreign policy and history know that there was a carefully orchestrated façade beneath these initiatives, that the US, like other powerful countries, has resorted to power and force in the most dubious of circumstances.
Yet immigration, especially during the Cold War, became a sine qua non of US diplomacy. Successive presidents starting from Truman and Eisenhower used their powers to admit migrants from Communist and other seemingly “authoritarian” states. Kennedy started the Peace Corps and USAID, and Senator Fulbright sponsored arguably the US’s most coveted global scholarship programme. All these developments took place against the backdrop of a never-ending battle of hearts and minds with the Soviets and the Chinese, culminating in the South-East Asian wars of the 1960s and 1970s and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. The latter marked a turning point in the Cold War: it was the beginning of the end for the Soviet Union. Throughout this period, immigration enabled Washington to claim, not unjustifiably, that whatever its failings were, it at least allowed the young and independent-minded from other parts of the world to come in and prosper.
It is too early to say whether Trump will undo in five years what the country built up in 50. But the travel advisories now being imposed by the US’s staunchest allies, including Germany, indicate a turnaround that the world will take time to adjust to. What the last few weeks have demonstrated is the level of resistance to Executive overreach but also the degree to which the Executive can override otherwise independent institutions, including of course the Judiciary. Every other major official, from the president himself to Elon Musk, Marco Rubio, and Stephen Miller, not to mention the White House Spokesperson, have lambasted “radical left” judges for supposedly disobeying Trump’s orders, claiming it to be a usurpation of democracy. This has been especially true of the judiciary’s confrontations with Trump’s deportation policies and detention orders.
Trump is, in all respects, every US liberal’s nightmare. Yet he is the embodiment of the kind of disruptive politics that was bound to take root in Washington, sooner or later. If Trump’s first term indicated anything, it was that the Democrats need to shield themselves more proactively against the possibility of a second term. In this, however, they failed, partly because of their own willingness to go tough and swing to the right on many issues that Trump officials are doubling down on.
The Democrats now face the unprecedented dilemma of either opposing Trump, especially on issues like immigration, or being depicted by the right-wing press, and Trump’s acolytes, as evil incarnate. Chuck Schumer’s response to this problem was to support the Republican funding bill. If at all, such developments suggest that Democrats are still not awake to the possibilities of an unhinged Trump presidency, and that when they do wake up, it may be too late – both for themselves and the rest of the world.
Features
More parliamentary giants I was privileged to know

Lalith Athulathmudali
Lalith Athulathmudali served Parliament for over 14 years as the UNP MP for Ratmalana. He held several important ministerial portfolios. Among these were Minister of Trade and Shipping, Minister of National Security, Deputy Minister of Defense, Minister for Agriculture, Food and Cooperatives as well as Minister of Education and Higher Education.
I initially came to know Lalith as a student at Royal College , though he was a few years younger to me. At Royal he shone exceptionally winning many of the College prizes and excelling in sports, especially athletics. His father Don Daniel Athulathmudali was a Barrister-at-Law and served in the First State Council (1931-1935).
1 distinctly remember his father attending the Royal College prize giving to see his son winning so many prizes and saying that he was keen to send him to Oxford. After his college education he went up to Oxford University where he excelled in the academic fields and brought honour to himself and his country by being the first Sri Lankan to be elected as the President of the Oxford Union. He became a Barrister-at -Law in the UK. He returned to Sri Lanka and made a mark as a lawyer and lecturer in law here as he had in Israel and Singapore.
Having earned many tributes for his eloquence, he was appointed to the 1977 JR Jayewardene cabinet first holding the Ministry of Trade and Shipping and later other other important assignments including Minister of National Security and Minister of Education. As Minister of National Security and Deputy Minister of Defence he proved his mettle during the height of the war against the LTTE. He was responsible for founding the Mahapola Scholarships which, till today, grants students at state universities substantial financial help to continue their university studies.
August 18, 1987, is a day I will never forget. President Jayawardena was in Parliament to address his party’s parliamentary group meeting. The day ended in mayhem with a grenade thrown into the meeting room. As I entered it after the explosion, Lalith lay on a stretcher but was conscious even though he was bleeding profusely from his back. Later I heard he had been seriously injured by the grenade that was thrown into the room as it had ricocheted off the polished table at which President Jayewardene and Prime Minister Premadasa sat and landed under the chair Lalith was seated in the front row making a hole about eight inches wide in the ground.
Lalith was swiftly taken in the ambulance I had placed outside the Member’s Entrance to the House to deal with any possible emergency via the back entrance to Parliament, to the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital where he was given immediate medical attention. Lalith had especially requested that his doctor friend Dr. K. Yoheswaran be summoned to attend to him. I knew Dr Yoheswaran well too as my late brother, Nissanka Seneviratne, Professor of Physiology and he had been fellow House Officers at the General Hospital many years back. Moreover, my daughter Shanika had a very close friendship with Dr Yoheswaran’s daughter Dilani from their school days, lasting even up to date though Dilani is now domiciled in Boston, USA.
Dr Yoheswaran, who passed away in his nineties, who I met recently told me that at the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital, there were three surgical teams with Dr S.A.W. Goonewardane, Dr D. Bandaranaike
Dr Yoheswaran, now 92, who I met recently told me that at the Sri Jayewardenepura Hospital, there were three surgical teams with Dr S.A.W. Goonewardane, Dr D. Ranasinghe and himself specially to cater to soldiers who had received injuries at war time and that not a single soldier had died during his surgical career. Dr Rienzie Pieris was the Hospital Chairman at the time.
On the fateful day , Lalith had been in the OPD on the ground floor and then been moved to the operating theatre. He had recognized Dr Yoheswaran instantly. He had been given a blood transfusion but the doctor had decided that immediate surgery was essential and Lalith had inquired if a local anaesthetic could be given to which he said ‘No’. Dr Suriyakanthi Amerasekera was the Anesthetist on duty that day.
The theatre had been crowded with lots of doctors. The surgery had lasted two or three hours as there had been multiple injuries. A colostomy operation was also done removing his spleen. A few days later I visited him in hospital and found him recovering but still weak. I offered him all the services of Parliament to help him have a speedy recovery . Everyone was relieved that after three weeks in the hospital, fully recovered, he was released to go home. Lalith returned to parliament and contributed to debates with great prowess.
A few months later in October 1987, Lalith had proceeded to the USA for a check up to the prestigious Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in New York. A team of three medical specialists had stated that despite the serious injuries he had received, he was now in robust physical condition. Dr Alan Weiss, Consultant in Surgery had tested him from head to toe and singled out for special mention the Consultant Surgeon who had attended on him, Dr K. Yoheswaran.
With the retirement of President Jayewardene and Prime Minister Ranasinghe Premadasa being elected President, there was disquiet within certain sections of the Government and Lalith was among those whose name came up as one not seeing eye to eye with the new Executive. About a year into his first term in office, in 1991, the country and Parliament were all agog with news of an impeachment motion against President Premadasa.
Amidst these developments, Lalith visited me in my room one day and in the midst of a friendly conversation I asked him, “Lalith, why are you rocking the boat?” Lalith promptly replied, “Why are you asking me? Why don’t you ask your Speaker?” hinting that the then Speaker. M. H. Mohamed was privy to the move to impeach the President.
An illustrious politician’s life was cut short when Lalith was shot by an unknown assassin while addressing a political rally in Kirulapone in April 1993. The name of Lalith Athulathmudali finds a firm place in the records of Sri Lanka’s Parliament.
K.B. Ratnayake
K.B.Ratnayake served parliament for over 19 years starting from 1962. He served as Chief Government Whip, Minister of Transport and Minister of Parliamentary Affairs and Sports. He also served as the Speaker of Parliament from 2
August 25, 1994 to October 2000.
I recall his entry to Parliament very well. Educated initially at Hartley College in Jaffna and playing cricket for that school, he was one of the very rare members who spoke fluently all three languages: Sinhala, Tamil and English. He had a warm personality and during his tenure as Parliamentary Affairs and Sports Minister, he worked very closely with us. It was during this time that a new Act of Parliament was introduced by him which provides all Members of Parliament who have served the Legislature for over five years, a lifelong pension.
This Act is still very much in force and all parliamentarians who have served the Legislature for five years are entitled to a pension. This piece of legislation I may add has come in for some valid criticism as the ordinary public servant is entitled to a pension only when he or she has served 10 years or more in a pensionabloe post.
With his warm personality, Mr.Ratnayake endeared himself to all of us serving in the Parliamentary Secretariat. He invited us to his gracious home in Anuradhapura. His daughter Malkanthi was a very distinguished member of the Public Service until her retirement.
I was also privileged to have joined him in the year of my retirement in 1994 when he led a Commonwealth Parliamentary Delegation to Banff in the Province of Ontario in Canada. His warm and friendly personality has left a lasting impression on those of us who had the privilege to work closely with him.
Stanley Tillakaratne
Mr. Tillakaratne served parliament for over 21 years staring from August 1960. He was Speaker of the House from 1970-1977. 1 had the privilege of associating with him from around the time he first entered parliament as the MP for Kotte and so much more during his long period as Speaker. During his time, he was known to be controversial and sometimes a fiery orator. By the time he assumed duties as Speaker; he had mellowed down and sought my advice and help when rulings had to be given as Speaker.
An incident I remember well involved a ruling that had to be given by him over a controversial matter even though I cannot recollect the exact matter. He insisted that I contact Prime Minister Mrs. Sirimavo
Bandaranaike to ask her what she felt about it before he gives his ruling. I told him this was a matter for those of us in Parliament to tackle but as he insisted, I telephoned the Prime Minister. As Mrs. Bandaranaike came to the phone, I prefaced my remarks saying,” Madam, I am ringing you on the Speaker’s instructions.” She snapped back,” Why are you calling me? This is entirely a matter for the Speaker and you.” And the call ended. So, I reported back to him and after much discussion between us, I drafted a ruling for him.
On a slightly personal level, he once told me to help his wife Chandra over a pension matter. When I spoke to Mrs. Tillakaratne, I found that some unknown person had been forging her signature and collecting the pension due to her. I promptly intervened in the matter and I was relieved when she thanked me for my efforts and said that she was receiving her pension.
During his tenure I was privileged to have been the secretary to a parliamentary delegation visiting North Korea where we met with the country’s elusive leader Kim IL Sung. Stanley invited me often to his ancestral house in Kotte where I used to meet his nephew Dr. Susantha Dharmatillake, a dentist and an old friend of mine.
Gamini Jayasuriya
Gamini Jayasuriya served parliament for over 19 years starting from March 1960, Over these years, he served as Minster of Education, Minister of Health, Minister of Agriculture Development and Research and Minister of Food and Co-operatives.
I came to know Gamini as a fellow Royalist and most of all as the representative of Homagama which was the constituency in which my father was born and cremated. I also had the privilege of knowing his wife Sita Hevawitarana and came to know his son Prasanna and wife quite closely. In Parliament, he was well versed on the subjects he spoke on; was always relevant and spoke with great sincerity.
He came to be known for his uprightness and impeccable honesty and integrity.
I will never forget his very kind gesture when he came to my room to speak with me on a personal matter. My doctor father left for me seven acres of coconut land in Katuwana which was in his constituency which I visited only when plucking was taking place. He called on me to apprise me that the Urban Development Authority had identified this land being owned by an absentee landlord and was intending to acquire this land to establish an industrial zone. He warned me about it even though he did not have to only because of our personal relationship.
A few months later, the land was acquired with a gazette notification announcing the takeover. I could not object to it but when compensation was duly paid to me, I told the UDA that the land of seven acres was grossly undervalued and that I should be paid a higher compensation. The UDA kindly increased the original valuation but it was nowhere near the current market price. However I had to be satisfied with that.
In the year 1987, Gamini took the unprecedented step of resigning from his ministerial portfolio, over disagreements with President J.R.Jayewardene over the Indo-Lanka Agreement of that year. He did not stop there. After a few days, he walked into my room and handed over to me his letter of resignation as MP for Homagama. I recall telling him that though he had resigned from his ministerial portfolio, there was absolutely no necessity for him to resign from his Parliamentary seat. My few words were of no avail though I told him Parliament and the country needed people of his stature, education and above all impeccable honesty and integrity. He thanked me and said he would not change his mind. It was a sad day when he said goodbye to Parliament.
A few years later, Gamini passed away and the country lost a principled politician. He is still remembered as a politician who possessed all these noble attributes.
(Excerpted from Memories of 33 year in Parliament by Nihal Seneviratne)
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More parliamentary giants I was privileged to know